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“Sometimes they just cut off your hands,” I said drily.
“They do that off-base,” Gunnar said cheerfully, like it was no big deal.
“I can’t imagine your superiors condone it,” Rachel said, still shocked.
“Don’t worry, I won’t get caught,” Gunnar said as he stood up. “See you soon!”
Once he lumbered outside, it was just me and Rachel.
“Is he always that cavalier about things that could get him thrown in prison?” she asked.
“Don’t get me started. So… how long are you here for?”
She sighed. “I fly out at 0400. Gotta go back to London and report on the mission.”
Four in the morning.
Less than seven hours from now.
“…oh.”
She smiled. “You sound disappointed.”
“I am,” I said honestly.
“Why? You wanted to go kill more bad guys with me?” she teased right before she took a swig of vodka.
“Actually, I wanted to sleep with you.”
She spat out her drink in a spray all over me.
I closed my eyes and wiped the vodka off my face.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” she laughed. “But JESUS, you’re a bit forward, aren’t you?”
That wasn’t something I’d heard in my previous conversations in English.
“Does ‘forward’ mean assertive?” I asked.
“Or brash… brazen… cheeky… take your pick.”
“I guess I’m forward, then.”
“Well, it’s not happening. I’m not sleeping with you.”
I smiled. “You absolutely sure?”
“Gettara la spugna.”
I frowned. “What?!”
She started laughing. “Sorry – the Italian part of me comes out when I’m drunk.”
“That was Italian?”
“Uhhhh, yes,” she said, like ‘duh.’
“What does it mean?”
